The Season(77)

“Indeed. The Baron Montgrave has arrived, but he has plans to visit Sewell Hall this afternoon, he says.”

Vivi’s sharp intake of breath was followed by Ella’s quick response, “Why the hall?”

Will, who was pulling on his calfskin gloves and clearly distracted by the task he was about to undertake, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know. I imagine because Sewell has arrived early as well.”

Both girls shot up from their seats at his words, the concern in their expressions shocking Will from his preoccupation. He asked sharply, “What is it?”

“I think we had better speak to your father,” Vivi said, fear in her voice.

twenty-three

Alex pushed open the door to Sewell Hall and rushed inside, breathing heavily and wishing she hadn’t worn her corset stays quite so tight this morning.

“Vanity be damned,” she huffed to herself. “Loveliness will do me no good with Blackmoor if I drop dead from lack of air before he sees me.” She had been so eager to get to the hall, to find the book and Blackmoor, that she had run the entire way—something she hadn’t done since she had spent her childhood rushing about the heath, traipsing after the boys she so revered.

The hall was quiet and dark. Blackmoor had clearly not alerted his staff that he was coming this morning, so they were nowhere to be seen. She preferred the house this way, for it would give her a chance to find the book and find him without having to explain her visit or to risk being caught by anyone.

She had thought to find Blackmoor immediately but altered her plan once she arrived at the house, heading instead for the library to find the book. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, she was reluctant to leave the volume unfound any longer than absolutely necessary. She paused just inside the front door, listening for any movement or conversation. Hearing nothing, she moved quietly across the central foyer of the hall, entered the library, and began her search.

The Sewell Hall library was designed for readers. Warm and cozy despite its high ceilings, the bookshelves inside the enormous room were filled to the brim with enough leather-bound volumes to make the space feel intimate. For generations, the Earls of Blackmoor had prided themselves on their literary appreciation. Alex could vividly remember Gavin’s father holding her on his lap when she was knee-high and telling her tales from Shakespeare and Homer and Greek and Roman mythology.

Even now, years later, there were moments when she could hear the rich tenor of his voice alluding to Cupid and Psyche when she became too curious, or to Much Ado About Nothing’s Beatrice when she was becoming obviously headstrong. She breathed deeply, the memories flooding her as she inhaled the scent of the well-loved and well-cared-for inhabitants of this room—the aroma of oiled and leather-bound books.

Ordinarily, she would have spent her first few minutes in the room wandering aimlessly through the maze of shelves, marveling at the way the high windows were constructed to let just enough sunlight in for dust to dance in the rays without the light harming the books. But today, she had no time to dally.

The earl had always been thoroughly organized in regard to his library—the books were sorted by genre, then by title. All Alex had to do was find the collection of books on the county history and she would discover that for which she was searching. She began poring over the shelves, pausing only long enough to identify the topic covered by the collection of books she was looking at—science, medicine, poetry, the classics of Shakespeare and Chaucer—she found the history collection quickly, running her fingers over the spines of books on the Far East, the Americas, the European continent, and, finally, British history with a whole collection of titles on the various counties in Britain. She crouched down to see them all clearly—identifying several volumes on Essex, but not the one she was looking for. She was certain her theory was right and the earl had a second copy of the book. Blowing back a lock of hair from her face, she spoke aloud to the empty room, “Where is the blasted thing?”

Perhaps he’d hidden it? Or, worse, perhaps he hadn’t had the time to leave his final message. Perhaps he was killed before he could complete the task.

“No.” Alex shook her head in frustration and sat on the floor, pulling books off the shelf one by one, opening them and running her hands across the endpapers, checking to see if he’d left his next missive in a different title. The stack of books on the floor by her side grew as she searched through the collection. When she had emptied the shelf on Essex, she sighed down at the pile she had made, wondering where else she could search. She looked back at the shelf in disappointment and there, hidden behind the other books, was a small volume bound in rich green leather. She knew the title before she looked closely at the book…A History of Essex.

Her heart pounding, Alex opened the cover, knowing with absolute certainty that she was about to find what she had been looking for. Looking down at the volume, she gasped. The book had been hollowed out and a stack of papers were tucked inside. She pulled them from their hiding place and was about to read them, when she realized that they were not her secrets to uncover. They were secrets that belonged to the Sewell line—to the Earls of Blackmoor. She had to find Gavin.

She burst from the room at a dead run, crossing the wide hallway, so intent on her mission that she didn’t pause before throwing open the study door and rushing into the room. Gavin was sitting behind his desk, and she saw the surprise in his eyes at her entrance. She stopped just inside the door before exclaiming, “I found it! I found the information your father hid!”